


I Touch Myself

by Patchcat



Series: Sarcasm and Sass [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: mating_games, M/M, Texts From Last Night, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:45:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchcat/pseuds/Patchcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The woman that sang I Touch Myself died today. There's only one appropriate way to honor her memory."  </p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>The one where Stiles touches himself and Derek watches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Touch Myself

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Week 2 of Mating_Games. The theme was Text from Last Night. The one I chose can be found [here](http://textsfromlastnight.com/Text-Replies-49149.html). I've expanded it a little bit. Just so that it makes more sense.

_The woman that sang I Touch Myself died today. There's only one appropriate way to honor her memory._ Stiles grins and waits for Scott’s reply, laying back and getting comfortable against his pillows. Whether his friend answers his text or not, Stiles is settling in for some “me” time. Honoring the singer’s memory is as good an excuse as any. Not that he really needs one. 

He reaches out and grabs his phone when it dings, a fond half-grin on his face as he reads Scott’s message. _”Dude, I’m at work!”_

Shaking his head, he taps the screen to answer just as another message comes in. _”Also, eww! Did not need 2 know what u and little Stiles were up 2 2nite! :(((((“_

Stiles’ grin turns wicked and for a moment he’s tempted to further torment his best friend. After all, it’s only fair. How many times has Stiles had to endure Scott’s Allison-related exploits? 

Deciding he has better things to do -- namely the hard-on he’s still sporting from watching the wolves ~~Derek~~ run around half naked for most of the afternoon -- he turns his ringer off and tosses his phone in the general direction of his desk. Digging under his pillow for the bottle of lube, he glances over at the open -- empty -- window and lets a smug smile cross his face. It may be empty _now_ , but that wouldn't last long.

Getting comfortable, he allows his hands to roam over his body, down his chest to his nipples, giving them a tweak as he passes by. He’s got time, but he’s impatient, ready to get to the main event; but he waits, caressing skin and allowing his arousal to rise; allowing his scent to grow and waft. 

There’s a specific sound he’s waiting for as he strokes down his belly, running his fingers through the line of hair that runs down between his legs. It hasn’t sounded yet, but he’s patient. He pops two fingers into his mouth, sucking and moaning around them as he lets the other hand wander down his body.

He plays with the skin at his hip joint, letting the backs of his fingers graze over his cock every now and then, just teasing, before sliding the tips of his fingers down the length of it. The scrape of claws against the window sill catches his attention, but he pays it no mind, just smirks like a cat with feathers hanging out of his mouth. He starts to pant when he feels eyes on him, and his cock grows harder between his legs.

“You gonna join me this time?” he asks breathlessly, his attention still on what he’s doing with his hands. When the silence goes on for a few seconds, he nods his head and reaches for the lube, squirting some on his hands. “That’s okay. You just watch, then.”

Stiles moans as he finally wraps his hand around himself, stroking just this side of too tight for a couple of seconds. His hand slides smoothly up and down his length, and he bucks his hips a little just to add to the show. He turns half-lidded eyes to the window just as a shadow moves across the room. 

“Derek,” Stiles whispers as he feels the bed dip by his hip. He reaches out his free hand and grunts in frustration as it’s batted away. Huffing, Stiles lets that hand drift down, past his balls, and back, until the tips of his fingers graze lightly as his hole.

Stiles plants his feet on the bed, spreading his legs and opening himself up, dipping his finger in knuckle deep with a wailing moan. His breathing turns harsh and his heart beats jackrabbit fast as Derek leans over him, his eyes red and trained on Stiles’ ever-moving hands. Stiles keens as Derek’s nostrils flare and a low growl rumbles from deep in his throat.

Stiles moves the hand on his dick faster, flicking over the head on the upstroke and tightening his grip on the way down. He’s not going to last long like this, not with Derek focusing so intently on him. He can only wish that tonight would be different. That tonight, Derek would finally touch him.

Stiles gasps as a sudden gust of warm air ghosts over his cock. Opening eyes he hadn’t realized he closed, he looks down and his body tightens at the sight of Derek crouching over his hip, his mouth inches from Stiles’ straining erection. Stiles hips buck up involuntarily, chasing that warmth and the promise of something more; and Derek jerks back, turning wide eyes on Stiles.

“Please,” Stiles groans, straining, _begging_. “Derek. _Please_.”

For a second, Stiles thinks Derek might bolt. He’s standing, tensed and turning, ready to spring for the window. A whimper from Stiles has him turning back, red eyes flashing and hungry; and he’s back on the bed in an instant.

There’s extra weight and around Stiles’ cock and then Stiles is coming hard. Derek’s fingers are wrapped firmly around Stiles’ cock, linked tightly between Stiles’ own, soaked with Stiles’ release and right where they belong.

Stiles’ breath comes in gulping pants as he comes down, and the sound it loud in the suddenly quiet room. He whimpers when Derek releases him and makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat when the Alpha rises from the bed. His frustration turns to pleased surprise when Derek turns back with a handful of tissue and dabs lightly at the mess on Stiles’ stomach before throwing the bundle on the floor and joining Stiles, wrapping around him with his nose buried in Stiles’ neck.

Stiles squirms a little, getting comfortable; and grins when Derek tightens his arms to still him. “Rest in peace, Christina,” Stiles croaks, eyes heavy-lidded and body content and sated. He drifts off to the sound of Derek’s fond exasperation.


End file.
